Debbie Guzzi's Blog

About Debbie Guzzi

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Deborah Guzzi is a healing facilitator specializing in Japanese Shiatsu and Reiki. She writes for Massage and Aromatherapy publications. She travels the world to expand her knowledge of healing and seeking writing inspiration. She has walked the Great Wall of China and visited Nepal (during the civil war), Japan, Egypt (two weeks before “The Arab Spring”), Peru, and France (during December’s terrorist attacks).

Her poetry appears in Magazines: here/there: poetry in the UK, Existere - Journal of Arts and Literature in Canada, Tincture in Australia, Cha: Asian Literary Review, Hong Hong, China, Latchkey Tales in New Zealand, Vine Leaves Literary Journal in Greece, mgv2>publishing in France, and Travel by the Book, Ribbons: Tanka Society of America Journal, Emerge Literary Journal, and others in the USA.

Reference Contest

Blog Posted:6/23/2013 12:55:00 PM

Hi everyone, I hope you will join in on my new Contest, honoring Poets who have been muses to me, whose work has inspired me. The page only allowed for 2 but I will put more here so you have more choices.

A Solstice by Rueben O.

Thoughts of death mourning a loss,one after another, like falling hailstones cracking the tilesof the substance of things not seen but feared. I could Care less God... it's the longest night of my years Caught in the toils of doubts, of despair, of the sound of falling icethat reverberates inside my faith in sudden slicesand outside this pen for sheep-raising still in fertile soilI fail to get over the fence without a stile

Impotent to kiss resignation's toesadvocated by those who want my obedience and my tithes at all costs A version of the interpretation of the oral traditions already translated into liesGreeks, Romans, Monarchs, Despots, Rulers, Reformists, Stoics... Impotent to listen to the duty of the silken stole that pulls my crackling faith into its coilsImpotent to accept sacred writings chosen by lotImpotent of praying more and thinking lessImpotent to breathe, to see, to walk through wind-blown salt and s i l t measuring a time...dark and lost

A profuse bleeding from a ruptured soul refusing to clotThoughts of death like tears of icewhen the electrocardiogram yells h h h e p e p e l l l p ...Where will be the lice to suck my sins and tics? to cough and gag and vomit my unfulfilled temptations into a cist?

My time of death has expired long time ago. Do you noticed it? Do you care about it?Thoughts of death tickling upon my bare solesI'll be nobody without a tag swaying from my toe

The night at its farthest point from the Sun and still so closeI need to believe itGod, You need to believe itI can kill you if my faith is lost

Bank Shot By Debbie Guzzi

ruptured, full to the bursting pointthe stream worried its bedgouging the earthen banksharrowing the wary weedspropelling the fish ever faster forward

the fluids of liferesist confinementand seek a always a mergingdawn.

Reference Rueben O.'s Verse Solstice concept referenced rupture

Retrogration by Yasmin Khan

My being is broken and fragmentedInto a thousand conscious pieces.Each breathing its own troubled breath.Gasping on inadequate oxygen,Given to it by the fragmented whole.My shrink may call it a nervous breakdown.But for me it is a depression,Of the highest, of the deepestWhose roots know not the wholeFeel not the whole.The thousand grey cells vibrateIn its own individual frequencyThe buzz is a pandemoniumNo synchronicity in its movementThought processes of a hundred different reactions.Thus a hundred numerous equations That cannot be equated to an ultimate reasonFloundering, groping for a rational return.

White Noise by Debbie Guzzi

On and on the sound goesthe source undeterminedthe result glass shatteringthe book thrown across the room lands in a pile of dirty laundry

The sink which is full of dirty dishesraises a stink, but I don't care.

Rice, white rice, bland boringtiny, bits like me, flavorless like mehot or cold is of no matter for I matter notand still the sounds haunts, agitates,taunts me, the bed speaks, the pillow calls,the darkness envelopes and soothes all.

How could we not be moved, enchanted, impressed or inspired by such talent??!! And here is proof right before our eyes, what amazing poets we have among us. Such a selection of gold! Thanks Deb, for showcasing these talented writers. And for kindling new poetry. I loved reading these gems!!

Thanks, Cher!...'Cotton Pickin Paradise' is about my summers spent in the Mississippi Delta as a youngster when a lot of cotton was still picked by hand...I will try to come up with something for the contest - Tim